


so long, so quiet

by Anonymous



Series: Gramander ficlets [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, literally a series of ramblings, reposted from tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:20:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28488960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: As families with their traditions of wealth and power have a habit of doing, the Graves maintain a close connection with the Scamanders across the sea. And this means Percival Graves grows up with the Scamander brothers. This changes things.
Relationships: Original Percival Graves/Newt Scamander
Series: Gramander ficlets [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2086830
Comments: 1
Kudos: 63
Collections: Anonymous





	so long, so quiet

**Author's Note:**

> I burned so long so quiet you must have wondered  
> if I loved you back,  
> I did, I did, I do
> 
> Annelyse Gelman

Could you imagine though, childhood best friends-to lovers-to husbands Newt and Percival? Maybe the connection between their families goes way back. Graves is an old name, Scamander is an old name; maybe their branches have crossed time and time again even though they reside across an entire ocean away. This means their mothers exchanging letters through their respective pregnancies, their fathers sharing a drink in each others parlors, and collections of family photos displayed on the mantelpiece in which they both appear again and again. Percy knows Theseus first, but then he loves Newt best because he has always wanted a little brother, and with Newt he feels like he has one of sorts. He witnesses Newt take his first steps and stumble through his first words (which is some form of Theseus, but Percival reminds himself not to get jealous, and Newt’s second word is ‘Pa-fee’ so he feel quite alright with it). Newt remembers when Percy loses his first tooth and how it horrifies him, especially when Theseus laughs and tells Newt that it would happen to him as well. Percy shushes Theseus and calms Newt’s growing cries, telling him that it didn’t hurt and teeth grew back - just look at Theseus, who is older than either of them and has a full mouth of pearly whites, which he’s flashing at them now in a mischievous grin.

Percy is the first child outside of Newt’s family who can approach Artemis, Newt’s namesake hippogriff. Newt watches, eyes shining with admiration as the other boy bows politely and Artemis returns the gesture. She lets Percy stroke her neck and he does it correctly, softly with the back of his hand, in the direction of her feathers. Newt usually prefers creatures to people and Artemis, with her shining feathers and golden beak, is a particular favorite - but he finds that he cannot look away from Percy, who is tall and strong and kind and has the prettiest brown eyes in the entire world.

Childhood is Christmas spent at the Scamander mansion, New Year’s at the Graves estate, birthdays rolling around in the English countryside, summer holidays touring the wild forests of the American northeast, and when Theseus and then Percy come of schooling age, Newt is left somewhat bereft. It will be four whole years before he gets to go to school, and Hogwarts sounds wonderful but he knows Percival is at Ilvermorny and he can’t decide where he’d rather go. He learns his letters well and exchanges long bumbling letters with both Theseus and Percival. Like other growing boys their age, they don’t have much patience for correspondence with a much younger child but Newt treasures the short missives all the same. He spends his time mixing up special treats for Percival’s eagle owl that frequently makes the transatlantic trip.

School goes badly for Newt. It’s not Theseus’ fault; he’s six years older, in another house, and at the top of the social ladder. Newt is a humble house’s outcast and familiarity with the Lestranges furthers his loneliness. He still writes letters to Percy, who is thriving at Ilvermorny and still visits on holidays. For Newt’s thirteenth birthday Percy sends him a set of thunderbird quills, collected during a school trip to the canyons. He whittles them carefully with a small pocket knife, thinking of Newt’s brilliant smile and smooth hands. The next letter he receives is full of blotches but also unmistakable pleasure at the gift.

The incident still happens, and Newt is expelled but still allowed to return to Hogwarts to take his graduation exams. Theseus arrives at the Scamander manor in his dark auror robes in a whirlwind of righteous fury. Percival finds Newt sleeping under the willow tree in grounds, his arm curled around a black furred niffler. Newt is sixteen and lanky now, his frame outgrowing his body for the moment. Percy spends every summer with the Scamanders in some capacity; he remembers Newt with missing front teeth, the initial awkward growth spurt of puberty, Newt’s hair darkening from a light copper to settling on a lush auburn, and how quiet Newt seemed to get every passing year. He gathers the other boy in his arms, careful to tuck the bright eyed niffler against his chest, frowning at Newt’s unexpectedly light weight. Theseus is pacing a hole in the foyer as he walks past with his precious cargo. He shakes his head when the older boy opens his mouth to speak.

Newt is a dead weight against Percy when he carefully lowers him onto his childhood bed. Percy smiles when he feels calluses under Newt’s hand as he tucks the younger boy in. When he reaches to brush away the hair plastered to Newt’s cheek his mouth twists at the feel of still wet tear tracks.

Percival takes a weeklong holiday to watch how Newt is doing. Normally junior aurors don’t have much leave, but Percival doesn’t shy away from the privileges his name affords when necessary. And it was necessary, to him, for coaxing a smile out of Newt during the following week is a difficult task. Newt had always been happy when they saw each other, and his letters had never mentioned any troubles, but Percival sees now that maybe it had just been the effects of distance from school and the summer air.

Theseus yells himself hoarse before the school board and lays a thousand curses into Leta’s name during his rants with Percy. It’s not that Percy doesn’t share his sentiments, but he knows better than his friend how to lock rage deep within himself, because Newt is hurting so very much, and Percy feels as if he can only circle helplessly. He follows at a distance when Newt wanders off into the dark woods, wondering when Newt had learned to look so lost and forlorn. He measures the length and span of Newt’s hand against his own when helping the other down from the branches of an old oak, an injured squirrel tucked in Newt’s front pocket. When Newt bends down to speak to the faeries decorating the hydrangeas outside the wrought iron fence, Percy finds himself tracing the curvature of his spine and the delicate line of his bare neck. One night Newt turns around and says good night to Percy, same as any other, except Percy realizes he no longer has to look down and Newt no longer has to look up, but straight at him and the realization makes his mouth go dry.

Percy has known Theseus since they were crawling babies, had had his first taste of forbidden firewhiskey together with him, and traded stories of about charming girls and dashing boys aplenty, but he knows this feeling must stay a secret, for now. It settles into his bones over the week he stays at the Scamander estate and he only feels it with more certainty when Newt gifts him with a small, tired smile at the end.

Even though it’s just a ghost of the thousands of more uninhibited smiles of their innocent years, Percy is left reeling in its wake.

Percival has known Newt his whole life and then some, but the gulf of four years between sixteen and twenty is too much to cross. He watches across the ocean as war slashes its way across Europe, as muggles and wizards alike scream in the aftermath. He watches as Theseus hurtles himself into the fray and Newt, fresh from his exams, follows his brother into war. He watches and burns under the weight of being the sole heir of the Graves family and the restrictions put in place to specifically prevent him from joining the fray. The trembling of his mother’s wrist bleeds into the metallic tang of blood in his mouth as he is forced into a Vow to stay. He reads Newt’s letters, charred and smelling of smoke, telling of dragons the size of hills and how glad he is that Percy is safe across the ocean. Theseus writes him about the crushing despair of failed campaigns, the equally crushing guilt of successful ones, about the necessity of violence at all, and his worries of Newt, now eighteen and the best dragon trainer of his platoon. Percival tries to answer them the best he can but he feels like its never enough. He stares at the peaceful New York skyline outside the bustling auror office, imagining the boom of gunfire and sharp zing of deadly spellfire. He can only funnel his frustration into his work; Percival knows he has always been powerful, but now he learns to be efficient and ruthless. He rises to Senior Auror at the unprecedented young age of twenty-three and feels no better for it when he looks over and sees no Theseus, no Newt by his side to celebrate. When the war ends, he feels the lifting of his vow, and grabs the first portkey to England. He finds Newt sitting under the willow tree, a strange mirror of the last time he found him there. But this Newt has fully hard calluses on his palm and dark red scars peeking out from under his sleeves. This Newt is twenty and the gap between twenty and twenty four is not the yawning canyon it had once been. This Newt is someone Percy has to look slightly up to see, someone who has arms long enough to wrap around his entire body and then some, someone who makes Percival lose every breath he held in his lungs. Newt is beautiful and sharp in a new way, as if war has made him come into focus. Percival can’t help but to smooth a wayward curl next to Newt’s ear, feeling the ridge of a near invisible scar near his hairline.

Three and a half years of war is the longest time they had been apart so far and yet Percival feels as if he is caught in time again, standing in the familiar grounds, in front of this person he had always known. He clasps Newt’s hand in his, feeling the rough calluses and slippery scars, yet the warmth is still the same. There is a pleasant pink tinge to Newt’s cheeks as he brings that hand up to his chest, the other hand to graze at the high arch of his freckled cheek.

A slow excitement unfurls in Percy’s chest as he stares into the bright blue-green of Newt’s eyes; the pleasant and breathtaking knowledge that even in the midst of everything old and familiar, there is the undercurrent of something quite new and fantastic about to begin.

**Author's Note:**

> originally written as a gift & posted on tumblr. now finally moved here for posterity :)


End file.
